


Pan - the one who never grew up

by Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams



Series: Improbable Dreams [original writings and unfinished stories] [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Original work - Freeform, Peter Pan Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams/pseuds/Dreamer_of_Improbable_Dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to my Improbable Dreams, the collection of my original writings and unfinished stories.</p><p>Cast adrift in the world on an island only able to be reached by flight of fancy,<br/>feeling loneliness bite deeper and deeper with every passage of time,<br/>watching those I care about and love grow up and grow distant,<br/>watching them slip deeper and deeper into the depths of time through my reaching fingertips. </p><p>Original work inspired by Peter Pan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pan - the one who never grew up

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings!  
> Welcome to my collection of original works.  
> I hope you enjoy them.
> 
> All of these are at least three years old (I have no writings from the past three years of my life because I wrote nothing) so if you are one of those very rare individuals who is curious enough to delve into these works I bid you welcome, to the mind of Dreamer of Improbable Dreams.
> 
> These are my improbable dreams.

Pan  
The one who never grew up  
Cast adrift in the world on an island only able to be reached by flight of fancy,  
feeling loneliness bite deeper and deeper with every passage of time,  
watching those I care about and love grow up and grow distant,  
watching them slip deeper and deeper into the depths of time through my reaching fingertips.  
Calling out to them, wondering if my voice will reach them from my place in the past. Sorrow dragging low my soaring heart as I watch my dear ones board the ship of time, bitterly cursing that within me that keeps me bound from those currents that will bear away my heart one by one, in bleeding pieces.  
When those I love have gone beyond recall of those few flashing moments of my touch, bearing the withered tatters of my heart I sent with their departing souls.  
And when my eternal youthful spirit reaches its bright crest and curls in upon itself, those frayed and ragged scraps of love I sent away with them across the seas of time will give one last beat, one last squeeze, one last reminder of that child standing on a receding beach, weighed down to earth by a ravaged lonely heart, the sound of my grief filled farewell muted by the time it calls across, and perhaps you will stand by that cold grey stone and think of that brief flash of time, the joy of flight, the belief of mermaids, fairies and that moment stretched on forever, feelings of immortality, until that instant glancing up and looking back, and watching those bright moments fade all to grey but that blaze of light and the dimming face, my face, and the cooling barely noticed shard of my soul I sent away with you, to wether the ages alongside you where I cannot stand.  
So maybe, when children are born cynical and jaded, and that wide eyed wonder is lost to the world, maybe then you will remember me, and my desperate hand reaching out to you as you stepped into the river of time and where swept away, maybe you will hear in your memory the echo of my laughter, my pure and wild joy in the wonder of the world.  
Maybe you will feel a flutter in your pocket, and reaching in, find that piece of me I sent with you to guard your inner child, maybe you'll look at it and wonder, dimly, what became of that far off figure, burning brightly in the grey of your half forgotten youth, some may shrug, and let that ember cool and die, crumbling to dust and blowing away on the wind.  
But you, you my dear friend, to whom I gave a piece of myself, you, I hope, will remember, and kindle that ember to fire, and that fire to a beacon, and share that magic with those around you, give a piece to your children, tell them of the magic of the world, tell them of the wonder, tell them of a child, a child who's heart soared! Who believed! A child who cared for you, and sent with you across the oceans of time, that ever burning ember to guide and protect the child within.  
Tell your children of the one who never grew up.


End file.
